President Obama, Marthat Stewart, and Janet


Walking around Yankee Stadium tonight, I read my friend’s Facebook status on my IPhone:

“I’ll be the one to do it”, I thought. Janet is three years younger than me and attends the college I graduated from. I wrote:

Let me note that I intended to write “You’re the BEST mathematician”, not “You are the BEAT mathematician”.

After work, I met my sister and father on 44th and 2nd Ave [in NYC]. We were stopped at a red light about to turn left onto 1st Ave. I was starving and looking forward to eating chicken fingers, french fries, and 5 or 6 hot dogs at the game. Suddenly 4 NYPD cops moseyed onto the street holding metal barricades. They set them up right in front of our car. We looked at each other in confusion.

Due to my psychic abilities, I knew they were setting up for the 2011 Martha Stewart Appreciation Day Parade [2011MSADP]. How could I have forgotten?! We rolled down the car windows. Police cars sped by. “That Martha is sure gaining notoriety,” I thought aloud. “The security is for President Obama,” my sister turned around and told me from the front seat. “He’s speaking at a conference tonight. That Martha Stewart Appreciation thing is not until May.”

This made sense. I couldn’t imagine why Martha would need such heavy security. Unless she was making brownies with milk, eggs, and sugar made from crushed diamond powder. [which is NOT easy to come by these days]

My father put the car in “park” mode. My sister and I got out. We walked over to a metal barricade. Bystanders were talking to a middle aged male cop. No one was allowed to even cross the street. I looked the cop up and down and concluded I could outrun him if need be. Although his chest area looked strong, he had legs half the length of mine. I was about to challenge him to a 3 block race when another parade of cop cars passed. A black hearse-looking car followed. It had two flags on the front of the car. We looked inside and saw a group four men in suits, squished in the back seat. “I hope they’re double buckled,” my sister told me.

That hearse-like car was followed by another twin hearse-like car. It also had two flags on the front of the car. One was the American flag [shoutout] and was a flag with two puppies wearing santa hats sitting in a wrapped gift. “That’s bizare,” I thought.

That’s when it all happened. “There’s Obama,” my sister said, elbowing me in the stomach. “Ouch,” I said and pushed her. Even since I was a child, I have a reflex to “hit back” when someone accidentally hurts me.

“I saw him too!,” a business man with a news boy cap, glasses and a big smile, cried. I was too busy looking at the Puppy Flag, that I missed seeing him. My sister and the business man hugged. The man sobbed into her shoulder.

We got back into the car. The barricades were moved 15 minutes later. We sat in traffic on the way to Yankee Stadium.

Upon arrival, my sister and I ordered a pulled pork sandwich, fries, and a large half pepsi/half diet pepsi soda. We planned to split it all evenly.

The entire time it was misting outside, barely raining. Holding my Iphone in one hand and the pulled pork sandwich in another, I looked at the stadium’s large screen and saw the game was postponed, “the reschedule date has not been set.”

It was one thing for us [New Yorkers] to travel all the way to the Bronx, to find out the game had been cancelled; but it was another thing for an out of towner to show up for the game from hundreds of miles away, only to be disappointed. “What about people who came from Europe,” my father questioned as we walked around holding our food. “They come all the way from Europe for the Yankee game. They could be returning home tomorrow. What about them?”

The three of us went outside and sat under the awning to stay dry. We ate the food. We chatted about how I was a Mets fan.

Here is my sister and father.

Close up.

My father suggested the stadium invite us to run and slide on the tarp as if it were the “world’s largest slip and slide.”

I drank three cups of soda just to get my money’s worth in free refills; I never even drink soda.

I posed with my father.

My sister posed with this dude. This is her “Should I smile now?” look.

We arrived home. Upon settling, I checked Facebook on my laptop. I looked at my mini-feed and saw I posted on a girl named Kathleen’s status. The girl is a high school friend who I haven’t really stayed in touch with since. [I’ve been graduated from high school now for 6 years] I’m sure she is still a great person.

“I definitely did not comment on her status,” I thought. I clicked on the link.

It looks like Janet never got motivated tonight. I hope she doesn’t become a college dropout. I also wonder what Kathleen thought when she read the comment. I’m going to play it off as an inside joke; “You mean to tell me, you DON’T remember when I used to call you Janet and we joked about us becoming mathematicians together? That’s strange.”

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7 thoughts on “President Obama, Marthat Stewart, and Janet

  1. I had to go back and read the end again, and literally laughed out loud. Just make sure that Kathleen doesn’t read your blog or else she’ll find out your secret!

    • hahahah Thanks for reading Liz Merc.

      It’s a pretty stupid move to post the blog on facebook, where the culprit can see. However, I LIVE FOR DANGER!!!

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